


Brief Insights Into Handling An Injured Demon

by imoldgreg



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: 1980s AU, A lot of sex, Adorable Newt Scamander, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Biting, Blood, Bottom Credence Barebone, Brief mention of Past Abuse, Credence Is Seventeen So Not Really Underaged, Credence Lives On A Farm With His Grandparents, Demon!Graves, Demon’s Have Unrealistically Large Dicks Don’t @ Me, Dubious Consent Due To Powerful Pheromones Clouding Credence’s Mind, English Teacher Newt, Fingering, Graves Cums An Unnatural Amount, Hair Pulling, Hand Jobs, Hispanic Jacob, I Wrote This In A Week And It’a Terrible, Idk I’m British Just Assume It’s Somewhere Like That, In Fact Unrealistic Everything Tbf, Knotting, M/M, Mating, North American Sort Of Location Wise, Rough Sex, Scenting, Self Lubrication, Sort Of Tit Fucking, Top Credence Barebone, Top Graves, Unrealistic Time Frames, Very Unobservant Grandparents, bottom Graves, humping, rim jobs, sorry xoxo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-10-06 22:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 14,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17353772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imoldgreg/pseuds/imoldgreg
Summary: Credence stumbles across a demon in the woods, so he does what anyone else would do in his situation.Now includes happy ending :))





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So just a heads up - this is written in very short chapters because I kept jump cutting from one scene to another and it didn’t flow right so I thought hey let’s make it into a multi chapter fic

The horses wouldn’t calm down. Credence had barely avoided being knocked down by large silver lined hooves several times, but finally he got ahold of the stallion's halter, and pulled his great head down firmly to lead him back into the stable. The door banged loudly against the wooden walls, its heavy iron bolt almost bent double from the strength of the gale that had blown it open, and released the great beasts into the field.

As he finally forced the lock into place, securing the horses inside, he felt the wind kick up again – an icy blast that foretold hail was on the way. The morning sun had tinged the thickly clouded sky a bold blood red. It made Credence’s stomach flip, so he hurried back inside. The horses' terrified screams and angry kicking were easily swept away with the winds.

“Wrap up warm, this storm's a bad one,” his grandmother sighed as she looked out of the window over the sink, bright yellow gloves sunk into the soapy water as she scrubbed at his grandfather’s breakfast bowl.

Credence grunted a reply, trying to fasten his freezing fingers around a mug full of fresh coffee without inadvertently burning himself. The timbers of the house groaned threateningly under the strain of the wind, the windows rattling in their panes. Even the fire crackling in the fireplace was struggling to warm the house, fighting against an unpredictable gale that kept forcing its way down the chimney.

Credence wrapped a thick scarf around his neck and pulled on an even thicker fleece, doing up the zip with aching hands before kissing his grandmother's cheek goodbye. She warned him not to take his bike, but the wind had suddenly died down and been replaced with a steadily growing assault of hail. If he cycled fast enough to the bus stop he might just avoid the next gale.

The farm path from his house to the main road was thick with wet, churned mud, and the hail beat down onto his exposed face and hands like needles.

When the wind kicked up again it gave a single vicious blast, the thin rubber grip on his bike tiers standing little chance as they skidded in the silt, shredding his knees as Credence found himself on all fours in the filth. He sat back on his heels with a pained whine. He felt himself pause for a moment, reflecting the damage he’d done to his hands when they’d slapped down to the ground in his fall. He took deep breaths to calm his mild shock, and looked around at the dense woodland that surrounded the path.

The heavy drum of the hailstones against the trees was almost hypnotic, and the deep red of the sky made Credence feel as though he’d fallen through into a different world, where no one else existed besides himself.

Maybe this was what it felt like to be some kind of ghost.

And then the strange isolated calm that had washed over him drained almost as quickly as it came on, and took the colour from his face with it.

A pair of large golden eyes were fixed on him from the depths of the trees. Predatory. Dangerous.

Almost human.

They were fairly far away, but their gaze was clearly fixed upon himself. He stood hastily, making sure not to look away; his heart hammering in his chest, his blood rushing through his ears, suddenly realising how very, very cold he was, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck standing up.

But he’d risen too quickly, a jolt of pain shooting from his bloody knees making him keel over, a sound emitting from his throat like a wounded animal.

When he looked up the eyes were gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Storms are never to be taken lightly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is TRASH but I guess that’s where we are

The school had attempted to teach despite the deafening roar outside, but understandably decided to give up after the huge oak tree in the yard blew over and crushed several classrooms, cutting off all power in the building besides the bright red emergency lights along each corridor.

All the students were immediately evacuated to the school’s gym – which drew its power from a separate generator, so the long rectangular lights hanging above blazed an unhealthy saturated yellow.

Teachers began frantically attempting to contact parents to come and collect their kids early, the students all over excited and giddy.

The storm outside had grown worse throughout the day, now a heavy pounding of hail and fat raindrops lay their attack upon everything, wind blowing at dangerous speeds that was strong enough to lift tiles and bricks into the air. The claps of thunder sounded like bombs being dropped not too far off, and lighting came threateningly close to the school’s windows, making the children shriek and lighting up the hall in a split second of vivid blue-white.

Telephone lines had been torn down, and power lines had been smashed. There was no hope of contacting anyone’s parents besides traveling to the nearest emergency broadcast station and getting ahold of the loudspeaker. With the town and surrounding farmland being such a small and closely knit area, people would be alerted in no time.

All the children sat in groups talking excitedly, the girls squealing at every noise and the boys daring each other to wander off and spend the night in the school.

Credence perched on the table next to his English teacher, Newt, who had the responsibility of watching over some of the special needs kids.  
Newt had always been kind to him, and often recommended books to feed Credence’s obsession with the supernatural.

“Got any otherwordly explanation for this weather Credence?” Newt asked, his voice cheery and upbeat considering the circumstances.

Credence cocked his head to a side thoughtfully and leant back on his hands. He thought back to the eyes in the forest. He’d never been one to find rational explanations or logical answers to anything, always attempting to see the more fantastical option for when things happened.

“Yes, actually, I do,” he grinned, and Newt raised an eyebrow for him to continue. “I think maybe aliens are coming to earth, landing nearby, and they’re using this storm as a cover up. Or maybe the government are testing some new weapon, and this is a distraction.”

Newt nodded, a smirk of amusement on his face as he leant back against the edge of the table, watching Credence with a challenging glint in his green eyes.

“Oh yeah? I was thinking maybe something to do with demons or spirits, maybe they’re finally breaking through from the underworld to reap their revenge on all mankind.”

Of course Newt was teasing. He didn’t believe in this kind of stuff, just humoured Credence by listening to him and supporting him.

“My theory's better,” Credence grinned cheekily, swinging his legs.

Newt rolled his eyes playfully, distracted momentarily with getting the kids he was minding onto their special bus which had got wind of the evacuation and arrived early.

“Credence do you want me to drive you home?” Newt called over his shoulder as he and the driver struggled to close up the chair lift back into the bus.

Credence nodded, and when Newt didn’t see he agreed to the proposal verbally.

“My grandad’s in hospital all day with my grandma anyway getting his bloods done, so thanks Newt I appreciate it.”


	3. Chapter 3

It took several hours until the gym was cleared of students, and even longer for the teachers to leave. Newt was forever checking and rechecking his belongings, always doing it in the same order and getting incredibly frustrated with himself when things went missing.

Credence was laid out on a small stack of gym mats, staring up at the bright ceiling lights until his eyes started seeing blue shapes, even behind his lids when he closed them. He heard Newt calling him, and when he sat up and looked at the chestnut haired man his entire form was obscured by the ingrained blue shape.

“I can’t find my reports, I must’ve left them in my classroom. You don’t mind nipping up there and getting them for me do you?” his voice was anxious, an edge of frustrated tearfulness to it. 

Newt was a sucker for degrading himself in stressful circumstances.

Credence agreed quickly, not wanting his friend to suffer, and jumped down from the mats . He swiftly jogged over to the double doors of the gym and pushed himself through.

The rest of the school was dark besides the continuous single row of dim red emergency lights leading along the ceilings. It cast an unnatural reddish glow over everything, exaggerating the black of the shadows.

It made Credence’s eyes hallucinate movement.  
Even outside the windows it was dark; the red sky had grown darker and darker, obscuring any light from the sun at all. It was probably only one o'clock in the afternoon but it might as well have been the middle of the night.

It seemed the anxious overexcited bustle of the gym was completely stifled by the darkness – either that or Credence had entered into an alternate universe. Obviously.

Even the noise of the storm didn’t penetrate the walls anymore, even though outside the glass panes Credence could clearly see the wind wildly whipping the trees, leaves and rubbish and all sorts getting blown around. It was raining very heavily as well, though the sound of the droplets against the school building’s exterior made no sound to him.

Credence balled his hands into sweaty fists and started walking. He inched his way down the painfully long corridor. He’d never been a fan of the dark. In fact he’d spent at least the first twelve years of his life living in crippling fear of it, requiring a nightlight until a rather embarrassing age. It had only been very recently that he’d managed to ever so slightly control that fear.

In the oppressive silence he kept thinking he heard noises; a tiny shuffling footstep barely a second behind his own, an inch of too loud breath, a slight grunt or stifled cough, as if someone was trying too hard to stay silent and in turn it made them louder than they’d ever been before.

Credence held his breath and kept walking, purposefully avoiding looking in any of the classrooms he passed, unwilling to stare into the pitch black for too long in case he saw something he didn’t want to see.

Finally he made it to Newt's classroom. He didn’t dare look back at where he’d just walked. Instead he tugged on the handle of the door and went inside, the only light cast from the low red emergency lights in the corridor. 

When he moved towards the faint outline of Newt’s desk the door behind him closed with a deafening click. Credence felt his breath catch in his throat. 

The doors at school always did that.

He reached out to a pile of what he supposed were reports - it was too dark to tell.

The scraping sound of a pencil rolling steadily along a desk at the back of the room made his skin prickle, and when it fell onto the floor with a light ring Credence closed his eyes tightly.

He tried to remind himself that the desks at school were slanted, pencils always fell off them unprovoked.

He took a deep, shaking breath and reopened his eyes, ignoring everything but the stack of reports, gathering them up hastily and gripping the pile to his chest with both hands.

He banged his hip on the desk as he turned to leave, making the old wood creak. Credence swore loudly.

Something seemed to do the same from the other side of the room, causing a desk to skid loudly across the floor. 

He froze.

“Newt..?” Credence barely squeaked, but his voice broke badly when he found himself fixed under a piercing glare.

The eyes caught the light of the corridor only very slightly, and the irises were saturated with a dull red, but Credence knew exactly what they belonged to. The thing from the forest that morning had followed him.

When mentally picturing himself in these kinds of situations previously, Credence would’ve assumed he’d have the courage to walk up to an unknown creature or being. After all, he spent almost all of his time studying aliens, ghosts and cryptids – he knew that most were probably lost and confused, so he always thought he’d be able to make contact easily, without the sensation of fear most other people would feel clouding his mind.

This wasn’t the case. At all.

Credence didn’t wait for any kind of contact to occur. He gripped the pile of reports tightly and practically flung himself at the door, sprinting down the corridor. His ears roared with the erratic thumping of his heart, his mind conjuring up gaining footsteps behind him, and ghastly claws gripping at his arms.

He’d been followed. He’d been followed. He wasn’t safe. He’d been fucking followed!

The sheer force of the sense of immense relief that washed over him as he launched himself through the doors of the brightly lit gym almost made his knees buckle. He would’ve fallen straight into Newt’s arms if the teacher hadn’t grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him, the surprise clear on his freckled face.

“Everything alright?” 

Credence nodded without thinking, a sheen of sweat making his face shiny. He couldn’t stop his heart from racing, his skin from trembling.

He didn’t tell Newt what he’d seen. He didn’t tell him when they were sat in silence in Newt’s car, the dismal crackling of the radio the only thing breaking the monotonous growl of the car engine.

It wasn’t clear to Credence as to why it felt wrong to tell Newt what had happened, but every time he thought about it his gut twisted sickeningly, and he felt himself grow pale. The unshakable sense of dread that followed the idea of sharing what he’d experienced in the classroom was too much.

He kept his teeth clenched almost painfully throughout the whole car journey.


	4. Chapter 4

The generator had broken; the tiles from the roof had blown off and smashed onto the rusted metal casing, rendering it useless. Credence’s home was in total darkness, and he hated it.

He’d gone straight up to bed when Newt had dropped him off, finding his way around by the stuttering beam of the windup torch that his grandfather always kept on the shelf by the front door. He didn’t even bother with getting himself any dinner, and instead buried himself under the covers of his bed, covering his ears with his hands and shutting his eyes tightly.

It was barely four o’clock in the afternoon, but the storm raged on, blackening the sky to beyond night.

Credence stayed as still as he could, squeezing his eyes shut until he saw purple bloodspots behind his eyelids. Every sound became eerily magnified by the darkness, the storm shaking the old farmhouse to its foundations.

Credence could’ve sworn he heard howling from outside, more twisted and unearthly than anything a wolf or coyote could’ve produced, and alarmingly close.

Still he remained still. Suffocation and gradual overheating began to take their effects, and he passed out in a hot sweat that soaked his sheets, his breathing growing heavier as his lungs fought to gather oxygen from the thick cover of the duvet.

He wasn’t sure how long he slept for, but it was fitfull. Vivid nightmares and half awake sleep paralysis exhausted him, so when he awoke choking on his own frightened tears and fighting the confines of the sheets, he realised he was more tired than when he’d fallen asleep.

Credence groped blindly for his bedside lamp, flicking the switch madly, but no comforting orange glow came. The generator had not been fixed.

He couldn’t hear the safe rumble of his grandfather’s snores from the other room, nor could he smell the faint consoling odor of the warm hot cocoa that his grandmother always made before she slept.

They hadn’t come home yet. Credence was alone.  
Most boys his age wouldn’t have cried. He was seventeen, old enough to deal with things sensibly, and crying was for girls anyway. His mother’s words echoed in his head, and as he hid his shameful tears in his pillow the creeping sense of impending punishment stirred from the depths of his subconscious, and it made everything worse.

But the storm kicked up, and a terribly loud crash from outside jolted Credence straight out of his skin, enough to make him temporarily forget about his self piteous tantrum, and instead peek cautiously out of his rainsmeared window above his bed.

The panicked sounds of the animals meet his ears, and he saw quite clearly the barn door swinging loosely off his hinges. Sheep were scattering blindly about the field and the horses were screaming in their stalls.

Credence couldn’t make out where the cows had fled to, but one of the more recent calves had been caught in the barbed wire fencing by the house, and its pained wails were enough to suddenly postpone Credence’s fear. He launched himself out of bed and grabbed the wind up torch, almost falling down the stairs in his hurry to get outside.

The rain was lashing down in terrible icy torrents, the droplets so fat and coming down so hard that Credence felt his skin bruise all over due to the pressure.

The sheep had taken refuge in the woods – the rotten wooden fencing surrounding their field long since blown away. From past experiences Credence knew they’d remain there until the storm passed, and the horses had surprisingly not succeeded in their attempts to batter the stall doors down, so he ignored their frightened racket and trudged through the thick mud towards the calf.

His face ached already from the freezing wind blowing even colder rain directly into his vision, plastering his hair to his forehead. The mud clung to his boots and threatened to topple him with every waking step.

Finally he reached the poor beast, carefully untangling the harsh wire from the calf’s delicate skin. Hot red blood soaked its pelt, and Credence began to panic that it had become badly injured due to its struggle. He gathered it up clumsily in his arms, squeezing it uncomfortably when it tried to struggle away, and staggered into the shelter of the barn.

His jumper and coat became soaked with blood, his hands becoming slippery with it. It even smeared onto his face and neck, the smell making his eyes water.

When he dropped the shaking creature onto the straw covered floor at the entrance of the barn it kicked out with its soft back legs, and charged straight back outside again. Credence didn’t chase after it.

Credence didn’t move.

The calf hadn’t been bleeding. It had been its mother.

Her soft tan body lay a motionless rounded lump at the back of the barn, her stomach torn open – completely hollowed out. Dark red blood drenched the hay surrounding her, and the unbearable stench of death filled the air. Credence had to cover his nose with his sleeve.

This wasn’t a coyote attack, nor was it even a bear or a crazed wolf. Credence knew what did it the second he saw it.

As if confirming his fears, a dark, bloody form crawled out from behind a stack of hay bales. Straw stuck to its clawed hands and its … hooves. Its whole body was slick with deep scarlet blood, its long hair matted and dark.

It stayed on all fours although the general shape of the body could be considered vaguely humanoid, its spine arching unnaturally.

Credence's whole body felt cold. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His stomach twisted and dropped.

But he didn’t run. He couldn’t. Not even when the monster emitted a blood curdling snarl that sounded similar to how someone simultaneously gargling their own blood and pieces of thickly cut glass might sound.

He didn’t run when it flashed him a glint of sharp fang, a warning glare from a single visible golden eye.

Credence still didn’t run even when it sprang at him, and he felt its sharp claws sink into his skin as it knocked him back. He stumbled under the vast weight of the creature, falling backwards into the unbridled ferocity of the storm.

He must’ve hit his head as he landed. He didn’t remember anything after that.


	5. Chapter 5

“Can you hear me sweetheart?” 

The distant sound of his grandmother’s voice brought him back into consciousness. Back in his own bed with his grandfather’s special electric heater brought into his room, and Credence felt surprisingly safe.

His vision was a little fuzzy when he blinked up at his grandmother, but the comforting cool press of a damp flannel against his clammy forehead eased any concern he had about it.

“Oh you silly thing, you’ve got yourself all in a terrible fever.” Credence saw the outline of his grandmother’s head shake, but the fond relief in her voice toned down her gentle scolding.  
“If your grandfather hadn’t gone to shut the barn doors you would’ve been left out there all night in that terrible storm.”

Credence strained his ears to listen past her sweet voice. No rain could be heard pattering against the glass, and no wind shook the house. In fact, if he let his eyes focus he could distinctly make out that the light illuminating his room wasn’t artificial, but natural sunlight shining through the windows.

It was as if the storm had never happened.  
But then he remembered the cow and –

Oh god that terrible creature!

“Was there.. something in the barn, Nana?” Credence practically whispered, his throat feeling like sandpaper as he tried to speak. The childish endearment for his grandmother slipped out without him even realising – one of the less crippling byproducts of his past.

His grandmother paused for a moment, before answering in a solemn voice, “yes Credence, he found that poor cow. I can’t believe someone would do that to such a gentle beast, I even suggested calling the police, but your grandfather said it could’ve been some kind of savage animal, like a rabid bear, so he doesn’t think it necessary.”

“It wasn’t a human that did it, or a bear,” Credence tried to sit up, suddenly eager to share everything he’d seen, desperate for someone to know, but his grandmother's forehead creased slightly and she gently pushed him back down.

“Don’t sit up darling you need plenty of rest. And please don’t make up any of your silly stories about this Credence, I can’t bear it.”

So Credence sank back down defeatedly into the plush cushions, allowing himself to be doted over by his caring but misunderstanding grandmother.

He sulked internally, but gratefully accepted her offerings of soup and bowls of ice cream, normally only reserved for special deserts if guests came over.

During the five day long period in which he was unwell, she brought gallons of fresh orange juice for him to drink, sadly accompanied by the unfortunate daily spoonfuls of cod liver oil that made his skin crawl.

Finally on the Tuesday morning he was well enough to leave his bed, weakly ambling around the house in his pyjamas with his duvet wrapped over his shoulders. His grandmother found him fit enough to be left alone, and so she took his grandfather to the hospital again for another round of bloods. How that man had any blood left in his veins was a mystery to Credence.

The weather had been perfectly normal autumnal weather since the storm; warm sunlight and gentle cool breezes to ruffle the red and orange leaves from the trees was all that followed each day.

But Credence couldn’t sit still. He was restless – pacing around his house and anxiously checking out of each window. He strained his ears at the slightest sound, desperate to hear that howl again.

He knew it was real, the grazes on his chest from the creature's claws confirmed that. He knew it was out there, probably terrorizing the remaining sheep that still hadn’t returned from the forest. 

What if his grandparents got back late and the beast decided to strike at them?

Something had to be done, and only he could do it.

He bundled himself up in one of his grandfather’s thickest knit jumpers, unable to wear his coat due to the terrible smelling bloodstains, and wrapped a scarf around his neck. It wasn’t difficult to locate his grandfather’s rifle, badly concealed under his bed behind a shoe box, and he took it in his gloved hands and slung it over his shoulder.

Credence’s grandfather had taught him how to hunt when he was young, and though he’d never actually shot and killed anything living, he’d managed to blast a few plates that had been frisbee’ed into the air. He was sure if it came down to it he’d be bold enough to shoot the beast.

Lastly he hauled one of the bear traps that his grandfather kept ‘locked' in the outhouse over his other shoulder, his legs shaking with effort, and started to trudged his way into the woods.

He wasn’t sure how far he’d gone when he started to struggle breathing, his sinuses congesting in the cold air, so he leaned heavily against the trunk of a silver birch, and decided that here was a better place than any to set his trap.

It was only after Credence had set and covered the bear trap with aching limbs that he realised he hadn’t brought any bait. He dug his hand into his pocket and found an old Ecto Cooler juice box he must’ve stored there weeks ago, and placed it as carefully as he could next to the bear trap.

It wasn’t real bait, but maybe the monster wasn’t picky.

And so Credence settled down a few feet away against a tree, trying to sniffle as quietly as possible. Due to his fever at some point he passed out, the gun falling from his grip and his head lolling back against the rough bark.

He wasn’t sure how long he was out, but he was jolted awake by a terrible demonic screaming that made his blood run cold.

The creature, a dark hairy mass, was lying on the leaves in a curled fetal position, one of its thickly muscled goat-like legs trapped in the clamp, the cold metal jaws sunk deep into its flesh.

Credence jumped up, his vision clouding momentarily and his head spinning. He toppled over as he tried to move towards the creature, and scrabbled hurriedly to get a closer look.

What faced him was.. almost human. At least, the top half of the monster was.

Bare, tanned torso, well toned with smooth, unmarked skin. The hands were clawed and the skin looked black as if burnt up until the elbow, where it faded back out into a healthy golden colour.

The hair was long and in tangled messy curls, a rich dark brown in colour. Two curled black horns that ended just below the pointed almost elven ears grounded this being firmly in the unnatural however, and Credence gripped the gun a little tighter when he saw the distinctive flash of elongated fangs in the mouth.

But the face.. the face was disarmingly handsome despite these features, with a slight beard and large frightened amber eyes that glistened wetly in the morning sunlight.

But the lower half was decidedly not human. It reminded Credence of a faun, or satyr, with the shaggy dark brown legs of a goat, the stubby tail tucked between his legs fearfully.

The creature was breathing quickly, and the thick dark substance shining on the fur of the trapped leg indicated heavy bleeding. It glanced up at him, then at the gun, and Credence saw its skin tremble like a horse's.

It was terrified, barely showing any signs of aggression besides a panicked snarling when Credence drew too close, bearing its almost vampyric teeth which made its nose wrinkle rather sweetly.

The Ecto Cooler carton lay scrumpled and empty, two puncture wounds in the side of it. Clearly it had been enjoyed.

Suddenly all the fear Credence had previously felt for this beast bled away, and instead replaced by a deep sense of responsibility and empathy.

He unlatched the bear trap from its leg as carefully as he could, and the poor thing emitted a high animalistic keen of pain. Credence inspected the wound with pained care, and the creature watched him with a worried expression, its heart visibly hammering against its chest.

“Please,” came a hoarse, surprisingly gentle voice from the beast, and Credence stared at him. It could speak?

“What are you?” he asked softly, his voice rather nasally from his fever. The creature didn’t seem to want to enlighten Credence anymore however, as it let its head fall back onto the leaf covered dirt, apparently weakening.

There were wolves and coyotes in this forest, and most likely bears. If he left the monster here it would be dead within the hour, its meat torn from its bones by an all manner of hungry scavengers.

So, possibly in a sudden burst of adrenaline and stupidity, Credence wrapped his arms around the creature's torso and managed to lift its upper half as he stood. It growled from deep in its chest, and groaned in pain, but didn’t try to move. From there Credence dragged him, hooves trailing along the ground, back to the farm house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes on Graves as a demon-
> 
> He is a juvenile (equivalent of the human age of around 18-20), his only name is Graves (Percy isn’t part of his name), and despite his height being about an inch shorter than Credence his high muscle mass means he weighs a lot more than a normal adult human male 
> 
> :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where the extremely unrealistic portion of the story comes in :)

The creature, which Credence had managed to coax out the name of Graves and that he was, in fact, a demon sent to earth too early, was surprisingly placid.

He didn’t bite, he didn’t scratch, and he let Credence care for him as if he’d known him all his life.

He gave anxious chirrups and warning growls when Credence cleaned his wound with salt water and tied it up with an old t shirt, but mostly he slept, quite content in Credence’s bed, snoring gently.

When he did awaken Credence searched in the kitchen cupboards for something that his grandparents wouldn’t notice had gone missing, and found several tins of Spam, corned beef and deviled ham, which Graves lapped up eagerly. His tongue was surprisingly long, but Credence tried his best not to stare.

He noticed Graves leaving several chunks of each meal in a small, wet pile at the edge of the mattress, and when he’d finished eating he looked at Credence expectantly.

“What?” Credence frowned slightly in confusion, and found himself gazing at Graves in horror as the demon looked from the oil soaked pile of processed meat to Credence, ducking his head encouragingly.

Graves had saved the food for him. Credence blanched – he hated those sorts of tinned produce, but he couldn’t deny the delicately hopeful expression on Graves' pretty face, so he reluctantly took the offering.

Graves perked up a lot after that, his short tail flicking happily.

By the end of the day Credence found himself quite fond of Graves, although due to his status as a demon his body temperature was incredibly high, making his room uncomfortably warm. Credence ended up just sitting by his bed in his underwear, sweat prickling his skin. It made him sleepy, and the two of them sat talking mindlessly for hours as the sun grew lower in the sky, casting a thick golden light into the room .

It didn’t occur to him that he’d have to hide Graves from his grandparents when they returned from the hospital later that night.

“What’s that smell?” his grandmother commented almost as soon as she walked through the door, helping his grandfather hobble to his armchair in the living room. Credence shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, taking their walking sticks and hats and putting them away for them.

“It smells like..” his grandmother sniffed the air, frowning and putting her hands on her hips, tilting her head to the side to think, “some kind of .. animal. It smells like some sort of dog in here.”

Credence grunted something about the house being damp, but when a loud and very obviously Graves produced thump made the ceiling fixtures shudder, he quickly turned the radio on in an attempt to detract attention.

“What was that?” his grandmother gazed up at the ceiling, starting to walk towards the door to the hall to go upstairs.

“What was what Nana?” Credence asked, as innocently as possible, his hands starting to shake and his stomach twisting anxiously as he heard his bedroom door open. His grandmother didn’t seem to catch the sound over the static of the radio, and turned to him, her foot already on the bottom step.

“That loud bang, it sounded like someone breaking in,” she gazed up the stairs, chewing her lower lip anxiously. “Bloody hell what if it is? We’re defenceless!”

Credence took his chance.

“I’ll go check,” he announced, and quickly slipped past his grandmother before she could stop him, charging up the stairs.

His bedroom was empty, but Graves was easy to find by the loud gargling sound coming from the bathroom.

“What are you doing? My grandparents are back, get back in my room,” Credence hissed, raising his eyebrows when he saw Graves bent over the sink, his tail wagging quickly, lapping the water from the tap. His claws had scraped the porcelain badly, and Credence could see the sink wobbling under the heavy weight of the demon. If he leant on it any heavier he’d rip it clean off the wall.

Graves looked up when Credence entered the room, his purring reverberating in the tiled room. He’d spilt water down his chin and his bare chest, making his skin glisten. Credence deliberately didn’t look when he stood up straight, his muscles visibly flexing.

“Credence? Are you alright?” his grandmother called from downstairs, the worry clear in her voice.

Credence took Graves' arm and draped it over his shoulder, helping him walk back to his bedroom, his hooves making the floorboards creak due to his bad limp. The t shirt wrapped around his leg was slowly darkening in colour, and Credence could see the sheen of sweat on Graves' forehead from the effort, a light whimper catching in his throat from the pain.

“Everything’s fine Nana, just the cat, it knocked something off my shelf.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even more unrealistic content :^)

Credence was boiling. Graves had pulled him half way through the night onto the mattress after Credence had started having another night terror, and now the demon lay behind him, curled around his body with his thick arms wrapped protectively around his torso.

His whole body felt slick, his skin burning. His hair was plastered against his forehead and he’d peeled his clothes from his body what seemed like hours ago. He couldn’t keep still.

Something about his naked skin pressing wetly against Graves' fur and his back sticking to his broad chest made heat pool in his stomach, his cock stirring between his legs.

He couldn’t stop himself pushing his ass back against Graves' crotch, wriggling in the demon’s muscled arms. Fuck he was so hard.

He felt Graves' chest rumble as a low growl emitted from his throat, and something hotter and slicker than the rest of his body pressed firmly against his back. Halfway up his back. Credence swallowed, his throat clicking, and reached around behind him, finding Graves' cock and holding it gently.

He couldn’t close his hand around it, and when he slid his hand over the silken length it kept on going. Graves’ cock was huge.

Credence wriggled round in the demon’s arms to face him, his gaze instantly drawn to his prick. It was bigger than he’d first thought, and it had.. ridges along the length, and small rounded spikes running along the underside.

He wasn’t sure where the demon hid such an immense thing during the day. It physically throbbed in his hand, and Credence whimpered.

Graves seemed to have got tired of waiting, holding Credence tighter in his grip and rolling his hips up into his hand. Credence put both hands around it, the giant member pressed wetly against his belly due to the tightness of Graves' embrace, his forehead resting in the crook of the demon’s neck. His powerful, needy thrusts made the tight muscles in his stomach tense, and Credence started to roll his own hips against one of Graves' thick goat thighs, the fur matting and clinging due to the wetness of his prick.

The sheer power and strength in the demon’s chasing of his pleasure sent Credence’s head reeling, the hot, thick smell of Graves’ cock making him harder than he thought possible, his veins throbbing. He wasn’t sure if demons kissed or not, so he suckled and bit at Graves' neck messily, earning him a clawed hand in his hair, tugging on it almost painfully.

It pulled Credence’s head back slightly with a breathy moan, exposing his neck, wherein the demon buried his face, latching onto the lower side of his neck where it joined at the shoulder. He sank his teeth into the skin, but instead of pain it brought Credence to a sudden, messy climax, intense enough to white out his vision and leave him shaking, his mouth open and eyes rolled back.

Graves growled with each heavy breath as he fucked into Credence’s grip, his arms squeezing the air from his lungs. Everything was so uncomfortably warm, so wet – the sheets clung to their bodies and their bare skin stuck together, making everything terribly claustrophobic. 

Credence’s skin buzzed with over stimulation, unable to hold back his breathy moans. The area around where Graves continued to bite felt so sensitive, controlling his needy grinding against the demon's thigh without Credence’s body even attempting to stop it. His prick filled to hardness again far too quickly, and he cursed Graves with every word he knew. The thick, heavy cock between them still pistoned in and out of his wet hands, the tip coming up to his chest when thrust in at its fullest.

Managing to unlatch the demon from his neck, Credence leant his head down and captured the tip between his swollen lips at each upward thrust, chasing the hot slit with his tongue. He drooled, a line of saliva connecting his bruised bottom lip to Graves' head.

Graves was a demon, he was primal – and Credence found out that once demons had found a willing hole to fuck they’d chase their own pleasure and hump it like a fucking dog until they came.

And Jesus, did Graves cum. His thrusts became more desperate, his claws starting to penetrate Credence’s skin. His growls turned to human moans and soft, surprisingly vulnerable whimpers.

The base of his cock started to thicken; at first Credence didn’t notice, but eventually it became too thick to even pass through Credence’s loose, wet grip. A few desperate shoves in which Credence separated his hands slightly allowed Graves to force his knot through.

As if by instinct, Credence fastened his lips around the head, swirling his tongue over it. When Graves came it took him by surprise – it was boiling hot, and there was so much of it it filled his mouth in seconds. Credence tried to pull away but the hand in his hair held him firmly. Instead he let it dribble out of his mouth back over Graves’ prick. He should’ve found the whole thing disgusting, but each powerful pulse of seed Graves pumped into his mouth sent heat down to his cock.

He came untouched for the second time that night.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence realises there’s a bond forming, and also realises, a little delayed, that perhaps it isn’t a good idea to leave an unattended demon in your home

Going to school the next day felt different. 

Credence didn’t know what last night was. He should’ve felt disgusted, ashamed of himself - after all, Graves wasn’t human, so wasn’t what he did technically beastiality?

But the scent, the taste, the way it felt – everything had felt so right at the time, so hot, so..

He sat up at his desk, rubbing his eyes with the back of his wrists as his face flushed a deep red. He couldn’t get hard in the middle of Newt’s class.

And he wasn’t going to do it again. He couldn’t, surely it was wrong.

The dark purple bruise Graves had left on his neck was extremely noticeable. He’d only just managed to hide it from his oblivious grandparents with a scarf, and during class when he had to remove it the teachers had looked at him with a mixture of concern and subtle distaste, though surprisingly none asked about it.

He was just glad that Graves’ teeth hadn’t actually penetrated the skin – fresh bloody puncture wounds in his neck may have caused more alarm.

But he wasn’t going to do it again. Credence was sure of it.

He wasn’t quite sure what his long term plan for keeping Graves was. He knew he would look after the demon until his leg got better, but then what? 

Graves had clearly formed some kind of attachment to Credence, so would he merely disappear when he was healed, or would he want to stay? Maybe Credence was completely misunderstanding Graves' intentions, and overlooking the key fact that he was a demon – something that had crawled out of the fiery depths of Hell to feast on the tender flesh that awaited above ground.

Maybe Graves was going to kill him, and what they did together last night was merely preparing him as the perfect prey. Maybe Graves was simply playing with his food, like how a cat toys with a mouse before devouring it.

Credence tried not to think about that possibility.

Instead, throughout the lesson, he began to unintentionally focus on Graves being left alone in the house. 

Would he be alright on his own? 

What if he’d hurt himself, or escaped? What if someone had entered the home and seen him? He was sure the second anyone caught a glimpse of the demon they’d shoot to kill - he looked completely monstrous after all.

Credence must’ve looked worried, because Newt kept giving him concerned glances, and after class he kept him behind.

“Is everything alright Credence?” Newt’s eyes honed in on the mark on his neck as he spoke, chewing on his lower lip worriedly.

Credence shook his head, his anxiety clear on his face. “I need to get home Newt.”

“Is it something to do with..?” Newt gestured at the bruise, and Credence blushed. Newt must’ve been assuming such terrible things about the origin of the hickey in his head, and Credence knew he should feel rotten and ashamed of himself for having such a blatent sex symbol on his body so obviously on display, but he couldn’t help but feel a slight thrill at keeping something so incredibly sinful to himself.

Sinful. God, he hadn’t used that word since – 

“No, I fell out of bed and banged my neck that’s all,” Credence’s voice broke as he automatically responded to break the flashback before it had chance to begin.

He tried to smile encouragingly at Newt, but inside his gut was twisting with worry. He didn’t care if Newt didn’t believe him. 

He had to go check on Graves.

Newt didn’t seem convinced, and looked as though he might ask more questions, so Credence interrupted before he could.

“Please take me home Newt, I think something’s wrong,” he used the tearful whimper he’d perfected back when he still lived with Ma. Credence had always used it on his older sister, Chastity, to persuade her to let him sleep in her bed with her in the middle of the night. It never used to fail with her, and seemed to work easily with Newt too.

“Fine, but Credence promise me you’re ok? I worry about you,” the English teacher sighed with canted brows, reaching for his coat and car keys and hurrying them down the corridor to the main exit. “If everything’s fine we come straight back to school, understand?”

Credence nodded. He wasn’t sure which one he was answering to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note regarding Chastity - since moving in with his grandparents Credence hasn’t seen either of his sisters due to rehoming issues   
> He is the middle child of two adopted sisters - Modesty being the youngest, then Credence, then Chastity being the oldest  
> Chastity is probably out living her life as a young adult, but who knows where young Modesty could be


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring : unrealistic reactions from Newt when faced with a demon

Almost as soon as Newt turned off the main road and down the long dirt track that eventually lead to Credence’s home, the boy shoved open the door, staggering as the car continued to move, and sprinted down the trail.

Newt panicked and called after him, but Credence was deaf to his anxious pleas. His mind swam with terrible images of what could’ve happened to Graves. Had his grandmother returned home early from her sewing class? Had his grandfather taken a break from loitering in the fields and had returned to his armchair only to discover a demon sitting in it?

The thing that worried him most was if he entered the house only to find it empty ; to find Graves had left him. Credence audibly whimpered as he ran, shouldering the front door open almost as soon as he’d slotted the key into the lock.

Locked. The door was still locked. No one had returned home yet.

Credence’s relief didn’t last long – the kitchen looked as though a bomb had hit. Cupboard doors stood swinging loosely on a single hinge, thick claw marks carved into the mahogany. All the food was gone; wrappers and tins and fruit nets lay everywhere. The lampshades were smashed, the tap pulled out of its fitting and spouting water all over an already damp floor.

And there was Graves; sat by the opened and empty fridge, his little tail flickering happily as he suckled down the last of an Ecto Cooler juice carton – the entire box of them laying crushed and empty around him.

He perked up anxiously when the door opened, only to beam brightly when he realised it was Credence.

“What the fuck-“ but Credence's exclamation of horror was cut off by a suffocating embrace. Graves purred and rubbed the underside of his chin against Credence’s hair, scenting what he believed was now his.

Credence couldn’t help but find it sweet, even though he tried to stay angry about the mess. He rested his hand gently on Graves' chest in an attempt to push him away, but became again distracted when he felt the demon's skin to be sticky.

“You’re a messy drinker,” he huffed, finding his tone similar to that he used when talking to a stupid but loveable dog. “I’ll get you a bath, okay?”

“Okay,” Graves repeated, his clear ignorance to what a bath was but dogged agreement making Credence smirk amusedly, which made the demon purr all the more, baring his glistening fangs in a handsome grin.

Something about last night had normalised everything about their situation. It had brought them together in an incredibly short space of time, something normally unheard of for Credence to become attached to someone so quickly. Hell, even his friendship with Newt took at least a year or two to fully solidify, and even then the two continued to keep a respectful distance of each other at all times.

“Credence, is everything okay? I really need to get back to-“ the aforementioned English teacher froze halfway through the front door, his eyes almost bulging out of his skull. He opened his mouth to say something but no sound came out besides a shocked breath.

Credence had forgotten Newt was waiting for him, and his stomach dropped like a stone when he saw him standing there. He looked from one to the other, Graves immediately tightening his grip on Credence, a low snarl rising from the back of his throat as his lips curled threateningly.

“Newt he’s..” Credence began, struggling to find any real way to explain this. Would Newt understand? “He’s not dangerous.” He decided that was the best way to start, but the demon’s increasingly aggressive behaviour wasn’t working in his favour.

Newt continued to stare, opening and closing his mouth disbelievingly. His chest was rising and falling increasingly quicker, and for a second Credence thought the poor man might have a heart attack.

He rested a hand on Graves’ chest and the demon loosened his grip slightly.

“Newt and I are friends, be nice.”

Newt stared helplessly between them, finally being able to find his voice.

“Credence… what.. ?” was all he could manage, pointing a shaking finger almost accusingly at Graves, who refused to stop puffing his chest up provocatively.

“Please don’t tell anyone Newt, he’s hurt. I’m looking after him.”

Newt had barely avoided passing out, but somehow agreed to shut the door and help tidy the kitchen, a blank look on his face as he tried to process it all. Credence lead Graves back upstairs and shut him in his room, returning downstairs to help Newt.

The two managed to get the kitchen back into relatively alright shape, mostly working in silence, until finally Newt asked Credence;

“What is that thing, Credence?”


	10. Chapter 10

Rather surprisingly, Newt managed to understand what Credence told him. He wasn’t sure what else he could do, so understanding and accepting seemed to be the path of least resistance.

He agreed to keep his secret, in return that Credence promised to get Graves a bath for that unbearable doggish scent he had, and promised to no longer keep Graves in the house during the day. Credence agreed to both. He’d decided against mentioning what had happened between the demon and himself last night.

That night his grandparents were visiting some friends of theirs, and Credence politely declined the invitation to join them. He played up his anxiety an almost unbelievable amount, but they let him stay home anyway as a result. He felt terrible for lying, but it was really more embellishing the truth. Wasn’t it?

Credence tried not to dwell on it as he ran Graves a hot bath, letting the demon pour in far more bubble soap than he should’ve, the foam spilling over the sides. He swirled his hand around in the water to make sure it wasn’t too hot, and Graves looked delighted, his tail wagging wildly and his chest vibrating with an excited purr. He glanced at Credence as if almost asking permission before scrabbling into the tub, submerging himself in hot soapy water. 

“Easy easy, don’t break the bath,” Credence's scolding had little weight to it, an amused grin across his face as he watched Graves attempt to eat the foam.

The demon suddenly seemed to realise Credence hadn’t joined him, and dug his claws into the side of the tub, chirruping gently. He rested his chin on his hands, his pretty golden eyes looking at Credence pleadingly.

“Graves.. I..” Credence faltered. He wasn’t sure about revealing his naked body in broad daylight. 

Last night had been different – it had been dark, they’d been under the sheets, his mind had been clouded by raging hormones. He hadn’t cared. But now it seemed too.. open. Too vulnerable.

But Graves didn’t pester, instead he hooked a clawed hand round Credence’s and held it gently, visibly relaxing in the water. Something about the soft buzz of the demon's purr and the comforting heat of his body warming the room made Credence doubt his insecurity.

While Graves' eyes were still shut, he pulled off his clothes quickly and sank into the water, the warmth and soft fragrance relieving the tension in his coiled muscles.

Graves pulled him close so his back was pressed against the demon's chest. They cleaned each other, Credence doing his best to be gentle around Graves' injured leg, but it was healing remarkably quickly. Graves cleaned him how Credence supposed demons groomed each other – he slid his long tongue over the boy’s skin, making it quiver slightly. Credence tried very hard not to get turned on by this, but when Graves added his hands to the slow, slick exploration of his body, it became painfully obvious that he, indeed, was.

He wasn’t quite sure what to expect when Graves nudged him up onto his knees and then pressed him into the side of the bath so he had essentially been bent over it, his top half and ass exposed out of the water. The air in the bathroom was steamy due to Graves’ heat evaporating the water, so Credence remained pleasantly warm.

He grew even warmer when the demon kneaded his cheeks and parted them, his claws digging into his skin. Credence shuddered, a deep blush creeping over his face.

The demon’s hot breath on his exposed, wet hole made him whimper slightly. He bit his lip, feeling incredibly exposed. Surely Graves wasn’t about to-

Credence's mouth hung open when Graves’ shockingly long tongue slid itself inside him. It pulled back, swirled around, and then plunged itself back in, exploring him in the most intimate of ways. Credence’s legs trembled in the water, hitching his ass up higher as Graves ate him out, his tongue going far deeper than any human tongue could.

“Fuck right there,” he found himself gasping, unashamedly pushing himself back into Graves' face. The demon gripped him harder in response, keeping his hips pinned against the side of the bath - the hard, wet friction against his prick making him moan.

When Graves' hot tongue flickered out of him and slid over the sensitive skin of his balls he jolted, and he felt the demon's fangs against his cheeks as he grinned.

He took this as an indicator to where Credence felt good, and moved his efforts down to his prick, pulling Credence back round to face him so he could lean his back comfortably up against the end of the bath. Graves ducked under the water, taking the whole thing into his mouth with one swallow. Credence almost wept when Graves suckled, his enthusiasm that of a hungry lamb given a milk bottle.

He was unrelenting, and the occasional scrape of his fangs made him throb. Graves used his tongue as an aid, wrapping it round Credence’s length and sliding it over his slit.

Credence bit his knuckles to stop the girlish moans pouring out of him, his other hand gripping the side of the bath tightly. He canted his legs up around Graves' head, his whole body trembling. 

Graves didn’t bother coming up for air from the water, but Credence couldn’t focus on Graves' demon abilities.

Tears came to his eyes due to the intensity, the pressure of the water coupled with Graves' hot mouth drowning him in pleasure, and he breathed in ragged, breathy moans. He felt sensitive all over due to the previous invasion of the demon’s tongue, and when he finally thought he was about to cum, Graves pulled off.

His long hair was in curled wet strings clinging to his face, and his lips were swollen, skin shining with water.

“Someone’s here.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, demons do self lubricate

His grandparents had returned earlier than expected – or maybe Credence had lost track of time with the elongated tongue in his ass.

He’d hidden Graves easily enough in his room (the demon had bedded himself down for a nap) , but Credence couldn’t wait to get back upstairs to him. He’d been so fucking hard and then denied any form of release. It made him moody, but he tried not to take it out on his grandparents. It was Graves' fault, he could’ve kept going.

When he was finally allowed back upstairs for the night he practically sprinted. His balls felt heavy and his skin was a live wire, trembling even by the simplest touch of his clothes against his skin. He had to force himself not to grind where he sat at the dinner table, his face retaining a deep red blush throughout the entire meal.

When he opened his bedroom door the heat was stifling. Graves was laid over his bed on his back, his cock unsheathed and laying heavily against his belly. He watched him smugly, and Credence frowned. He knew exactly what he’d done.

“Something wrong?” Graves smirked, and Credence glared at him, already starting to sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead as he pulled off his clothes. He was rock hard already, the powerful pheromones emitting from Graves' cock clouding his mind.

Graves purred, pleased with himself, and like an over indulged cat he rolled over onto his front, scenting the pillows with his cheek. He rolled his powerful hips into the bed, and Credence could physically feel the heat of his arousal. For the first time he noticed Graves' ass, as furry as it was, was incredibly round and plush. He’d never considered himself to be the one who could take another man, especially not one such as Graves, but everything about him seemed so.. inviting.

Graves languidly arched his back, making his rear protrude even more. He smelt even hotter than usual, making Credence’s skin prickle with anticipation. He crawled onto the bed, straddling the backs of the his muscular thighs. Graves' fur stuck to the sweat on his legs and clung to his cock when he ground it between his round cheeks.

Graves' natural lubricant was boiling hot against the length of his prick, making it throb almost painfully. When Credence pushed a finger against his tight, puckered hole it gave easily, and he fingered him slowly, making the demon look back at him prettily. Credence could smell his arousal building, could feel the heat of his cock from where he sat. His weight on Graves’ thighs meant the demon could no longer roll his hips, and Credence could start to see his frustration building. He grew wetter under Credence’s teasing fingers, his tail lifting encouragingly.

Credence pushed a second in, twisting as he fingered him. Graves squirmed a little under his weight on his thighs, turning back to look at him again. He growled low in his throat as a warning, his skin shuddering like a horse’s. Graves' arousal heat was rising, Credence’s own prick drooling pearly strings of precum onto the demon’s fur.

Whenever Graves' fiery eyes caught the glint of the boy’s cock they softened into something desperate, and he drooled like an animal at the sight (and the supposed scent) of his precum.

Credence couldn’t help but feel a thrill of having something as powerful as Graves needy for his cock, a member barely half the size of the demon’s own impressive length.

He slid his fingers out of the demon’s tight, tight hole, the digits shining with slick, finally pushing the head of his prick against the rim. The tingling sensation that Graves’ natural lubrication brought to his cock made him shudder, his breath catching in his throat. When he pushed in with one slick thrust, he bottomed out, and the sensation increased deliciously.

Graves made a comfortable groaning sound at the back of his throat, pushing his hips back as much as he could.

“Fuck..” Credence whimpered, leaning over the demon and holding his waist tightly. He tried to steady his breathing, moaning with each breath. It felt so fucking good, he wasn’t sure he could move without cumming. “Graves you.. you feel so good.”

He could physically feel the demon’s smugness, and he wiggled his ass cutely in response. The movement made Credence moan and he squeezed his eyes shut, digging his nails into Graves' skin.

He slowly dragged his cock out, just enough that the head caught on Graves' rim, and sank back in slowly. A lewd wet sound followed the movement, and Credence struggled not to release, but Graves continued to roll his hips back, grinding down on his prick.

He thought he could take it, but when he pulled back and plunged back in a second time Graves met his hips with his own, and the suddenness of the pleasure made him cum. Hard.

Credence keened, breathing heavily as he leant over Graves, his limbs shaking. The demon looked back at him with a pretty grin, continuing to grind his ass back on Credence’s cock. At first it was too much, almost painful, but as easily as last night his prick filled to full hardness again in seconds, and the sensation was once again extremely pleasurable.

“Y-you’re so annoying,” he panted, but manage to regain himself as the demon watched him expectantly. Graves wasn’t going to let him go soft until he fucked him.

Credence was determined. He knelt back up, took hold of Graves' horns tightly, making the demon’s back arch brilliantly as his head was pulled back, his hands braced on the mattress.

His thrusts began as slow as before, but he quickly sped up, the wet slapping sound becoming louder and more suggestive. He sank in deeper with Graves' body contorted like this, and his thrusts grew harder and more vicious.

Graves' plush cheeks bounced with the power of his thrusts, and the bed hit the wall repeatedly. 

Graves himself was clearly attempting to say quiet, to make Credence work for it, but even the demon couldn’t stop the vulnerable, desperate sounding moans that escaped him every time Credence thrust in, the position making it hard for him to control himself.

When Credence angled in at a certain spot and fucked into Graves with little abandon, the demon lost it. He moaned like a bitch, and Credence himself couldn’t stop whimpering with pleasure.

He could sense when Graves was about to cum, the heat in the room increasing rapidly, and he pulled out, making the demon snarl, turning Graves over onto his back and pushing his goat legs back so he was almost folded in two. Then he pushed back inside him, giving a last few messy thrusts until Graves came, his knot bulbous and red. He wrapped his lips around the head, filling his mouth with that thick, hot seed, pleasure coursing through him with each powerful throb of the demon’s cock.

Graves attempted to thrust his length up into Credence’s mouth, so he wrapped his hands tightly around Graves' knot to simulate the tie, and the demon's hips stilled.

Credence swallowed for the first time, even more pumping into his mouth as he did so. When he swallowed the second mouth he came again into the tight slick vacuum of Graves' hole, making the demon whine, his massive cock drooling cum all over his own stomach and chest. Graves leant his head back onto the pillows, breathing heavily. His golden eyes were glazed over, and when Credence pulled out he whined, his whole body oversensitive.

Credence panted, sitting back on his heels in between Graves' legs. He ran his hands over the sweaty fur, a soft, exhausted purr coming from the demon.

It was a wonder how his grandparents didn’t hear them.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From here on in it hasn’t been beta read so this fics become even more trash xoxo

They fucked again the next morning before Credence went to school, Graves bent over his bed, his tail up high. Credence fucked him harder this time, a heavy morning erection from Graves' heat being the trigger.

This time when Credence came he pulled out afterwards, watching his spend slowly leak out of the demon’s hole. He made sure to cum before Graves this time, making the demon fuck into his hand to chase his pleasure. Graves' thrusts were messy and desperate, the rounded spikes on the underside of his prick catching on his fingers, and when he came into Credence’s hand it spilt over and made a hot pool on the floor.

Credence avoided touching the knot this time, and Graves snarled frustrated as with each pulse of seed he pushed his cock roughly into Credence’s hand, needing a tie to ground him.

Before Credence left for the bus he let Graves out of the house, cycling slowly next to him as he lead him into the forest. They stopped when they got about halfway in, and Credence squeezed Graves' clawed hand.

“You stay out until I get back, so watch out for my school bus okay?”

Graves nodded hesitantly, unsure of his surroundings now he was out of the house. His leg had healed quickly, now merely a painless scab on his leg.

Credence kept trying to convince himself this was a good idea. Newt suggested it, of course it was.

“Keep away from people, and don’t kill any animals from this farm. I’ll be back in a few hours, I swear,” Credence kissed Graves' cheek and turned to go, cycling back down to the mud track and along the lane to his bus stop.

Graves would be fine. He needed to stop worrying.

But he didn’t. All day he worried about Graves being left alone in the woods, and he began to think it was a terrible idea.

He tried to go home again at lunch to check on him, but Newt stopped him.

“Credence, he’s a demon, he’s survived this long by himself in Hell. A few rural farm villages will be nothing to him.”

His anxiety wasn’t made any better by the other kids. Credence was in the group that would be known as the lunatic fringe, which meant clinging to any worthwhile friendships were virtually non existent. He’d arrived late and settled badly, so basically he equated to dirt.

Since being around Graves, even after the bath, Credence had been followed by the subtle doggish scent that seemed to cling to the demon’s very core. It wasn’t necessarily a bad smell, but it was indeed noticeable. Obviously some of the other kids picked up on it, and somehow it had become a current rumour that Credence had a dog, and that he was fucking it.

It came a little too close to the truth, so whenever confronted with it he’d falter, and his ears would go red. This didn’t help his case.

After about the fifth calling of 'dog shagger' was thrown his way he gave up trying to sit in class, and went down to the library instead.

Credence’s favourite librarian was on duty that day; a stocky Hispanic man of ample proportions called Jacob. He smiled warmly as Credence walked in, polite enough not to question as to what Credence was doing out of lesson. They both knew Credence’s absence would be reported soon enough, and Newt would arrive to escort him back.

“I’m looking from books about demons,” Credence announced as he got to the desk, and Jacob frowned briefly in confusion before raising his eyebrows and wordlessly accepting the request, checking his archives. Jacob was used to strange requests for books from the boy; aliens, ghosts, spirits, fairies. It seemed every day he had a new interest.

“We don’t have that many Credence, that’s a bit of a niche subject,” the librarian frowned thoughtfully as he scanned through each page, his face lighting up when he finally found one. 

“There’s one, normally used for the kids that study religious education, but you’re welcome to it.”

Credence grinned at Jacob and went to search for the book, finding it surprisingly quickly. An old leather-bound book with gold inscription along the broken spine reading; 'daemonium liber'. When he set the book down at a table and opened the first page is creaked slightly. The pages were yellowed and some were crisped at the edges, as if someone had spilt water on it at some point. It smelt of his great grandmother.

Looking through the book he found nothing of real interest besides what he already knew. Juvinile demons were responsible for the sin of lust. Ancient references for this occurring, see ancient Egypt and ancient Greece. Demons were often thought of as the harbingers of storms and bad luck. Juvinile demons lost in the world of men were also responsible for gluttony in those they possessed. For modern day references of this occurring, see the advancement in consumerism and the sugar influenced diabetes epidemic.

It had a lot of references to holy texts, ancient folklore and the 'demons within us all'. Credence deflated as he read on, the information becoming less and less relevant and more and more like a basic religious education text book.

He wasn’t sure what he'd been looking for in the first place, but turning over one of the last pages he finally found something pertinent. However, what he found he wasn’t sure he wanted to know just yet.

'Exorcisms: sending an attached daemon back from whence it came .'


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m having an existential crisis but hey ho demon sex here we go

Graves was waiting for him by his front door when he arrived home, slumped back against the wall in boredom. Credence smiled with relief when he saw him amd the demon perked up immediately, embracing each other warmly.

“You been alright outside on your own?” Credence rested his cheek on Graves' shoulder, watching him peacefully.

Graves nodded, huffing a little into Credence’s curls in affirmation, nipping his ear. His claws raked gently down Credence’s spine to his ass, where he squeezed, making the boy gasp. Credence pushed Graves away playfully and unlocked the door to the house, the demon following him inside, a cheeky growl playing in his throat.

His grandparents wouldn’t be home for some time yet, so he switched the boiler on and gave it a thump with his elbow to get the hot water into the pipes so the house would be warm for them when they returned, and then turned his attention to Graves.

The demon wouldn’t leave him alone, clearly now used to the physical affection and desiring it badly. His clawed hands explored Credence’s body and tried to pull his clothes off, hot breath on his neck sending shivers along his spine.

It seemed it was Graves' turn to take charge.  
And fuck, did he.

Credence barely had enough time to get his jeans down before the demon had him pinned to the bed, his massive erection leaking precum already onto his thigh as he humped desperately, missing Credence’s tight hole each time.

He could barely breath with such a heavy weight on top of him, but it ground his straining erection into the bed, trapped in the fabric of his jeans and boxers, the intense friction making his hips roll.

As Graves continued to miss in his hot, sweaty desperation, Credence reached his arm back and held his cock, guiding it to his hole a little sheepishly. The demon's prick was incredibly slick with the surprisingly amount of precum that had already leaked from his head, so when the head finally caught on the boy’s rim it wasn’t too painful pushing in.

Of course it was still an incredibly tight squeeze; Graves' cock was thicker than Credence’s wrist and the strength he was pushing in at was far too much for him to adjust to so early. When Credence whined in pain and tried to wriggle away Graves finally realised, and fastened his jaw around Credence’s neck. Something in that action made Credence relax completely, his hole becoming wetter as Graves lubricated him more with his own fluids, the heat building up inside him making his toes curl.

“Gentle..” Credence whimpered, gripping the sheets tightly as he felt the demon above him growl low in his throat.

This time when Graves moved, the great stream of demonic pheromones that had been contained in his precum suddenly took action, and Credence moaned like a girl. He could feel the head of the demon’s cock bulging at his lower belly, pressing into the mattress.

Graves obeyed Credence’s command, his thrusts incredibly slow and deep. Each time he bottomed out it sent Credence’s eyes rolling to the back of his skull, pushing the breath from his body.

The rounded spikes on the underside of his cock caught on Credence’s rim each time Graves pulled out, making him whine and bite his knuckles, and the ridges along his length oversensitised his hole.

Credence was sweating badly, everything clinging to him, the heat of Graves' body and thick cock inside him driving him wild. He wanted that animalistic desperation that he could see straining Graves' muscles with every slow movement, he wanted to be a hole for the demon to fill.

He pushed himself back onto the demon’s cock, rolling his hips to try and elicit a response . Graves sank his teeth deeper into Credence’s neck, making pleasure course through him, a shudder running down his spine. The demon growled and stilled his movements, his muscles pulled tightly, his skin buzzing with anticipation.

“Fuck me Graves, I want it so bad,” Credence whined needily, his face flushing with how whorish he sounded, but that seemed to be just the signal the demon was looking for.

He pressed his entire body weight down onto Credence, his claws sinking into his hips, holding them tight. He thrusted in hard and only got harder, slamming into Credence at a vicious pace that made him see stars.

Graves humped him like a dog, and Credence clung to the bedsheets desperately, continuously moaning a string of incoherent pleas. He came three times as the demon fucked him – twice as he was getting humped and once as Graves came.

Each time his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth hung open, caught on a silent wail, Graves' heavy jaw clamped around the side of his neck the only thing keeping it from becoming too much.

When the demon came he knotted him – his huge, boiling knot swelling inside him and locking them together as gallons of Graves' cum was pumped into him. Graves continued to roll his hips even when they were tied, and Credence came on his knot, his own pitiful human cock drooling unimpressively onto the sheets.

The demon pulled him gently so they were curled together on Credence’s bed, the boy’s back to Graves' chest. He’d never felt so full, his stomach swelling a little with how much seed Graves' was continuously loading into him. With each pump it unleashed a wave of pleasure over him, and Credence doubted he’d ever be this comfortable again, even with his clothes wet with sweat clinging to him like a second skin.

But this cosy little moment lasted barely five minutes. Suddenly there were loud male voices in his house, followed by the outraged and anxious cries of his grandparents, who had just returned home.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You can’t just walk into my house like this!” came his grandfather’s angry shout.

“We’ve got the authority to look around, sir. There’s been a lot of complaints from people in this area claiming their livestock have been found dead or missing, and they believe the thing that killed them always seems to come back to around this house,” an authoritive voice piped up, and a second agreed. “We’re just going to have a look around, and then we’ll leave.”

Credence sat up suddenly, attempting to wriggle off the bed. The door was wide open, and if those police officers took one look at Graves he was sure to be shot dead on sight.

Bit when he tried to get up he found his hips stuck, and to his mildly aroused horror he found Graves’ knot too big to be pulled out, and each time he tried it sent a shockwave of pleasure through him powerful enough to cause him to unconsciously grind his hips down on it, a moan catching in his throat.

Credence couldn’t help frowning, his face a deep red.

By now Graves had gotten the impression that something was wrong, and the two clumsily maneuvered themselves into a standing position – Graves stood behind Credence holding his waist to keep him steady. When he stretched out to close the door it pulled on the knot. If Graves hadn’t held him tightly to his body Credence would’ve buckled, covering his own mouth to stop the loud keen that threatened to be released.

He managed to get the door shut barely a second before the policemen started walking up the stairs, and he leant his whole body weight against it. Graves leant over him and pressed his hand against the door, the other kneading Credence’s waist, starting to roll his hips again.

Credence whimpered, his toes curling against the wooden boards of the floor. Between his legs his cock began to fill again, and he reached back to bat Graves' hand off his waist, hoping he’d get the hint.

It seemed Graves' demon nature got the better of him, and he started fucking his knot into Credence, squeezing his clawed hand around his mouth to keep him quiet.

Credence arched his back, his thighs shaking. His eyes rolled back and he moaned against Graves' rough palm. He internally cursed him to Hell – he could clearly hear the cops searching the adjacent room, he needed to get Graves out before it was too late.

But his head was clouded with heat again, and he started pushing his hips back against the knot, the sloppiness of Credence’s hole making a lewd squelching sound around the knot. He could feel the hot dribble of Graves’ cum leaking down his balls and it made him shudder.

He came when the police knocked on his door, his vision whiting out and his legs trembling.

“Excuse me, is someone in there? You’re obstructing a cop's line of duty, open this door immediately,” an irritated demand accompanied the angry knocking, and Credence had to force himself to regather.

“Just.. just give me one second..!” he called, his voice laced with a clear moan.

Outside he could hear the cops demand him to open up immediately, fighting with the door handle, but Graves held it shut easily with one hand.

Finally the tie was over and Graves pulled out, letting Credence pull up his jeans quickly. He leant heavily against the door and nodded at the window. Graves hurriedly pulled it open, probably ripping open the latch as he did so, and climbed out just as the officers managed to force their way through.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second to last one and then this trash pile is over !!

It had been hours since Graves had left, and the police had found his tracks. Now an angry, torch wielding mob was marching along the country lanes and searching the fields, police cars patrolling the area. They’d brought dogs that snapped angrily on the leash, and even a police helicopter circled above.

Credence laid in his bed staring at the ceiling, begging to hear the mob's noise die down but to him it only grew closer. He couldn’t bare the thought of Graves out there by himself, all those ignorant people hunting him.

He’d left the window open in case Graves decided to come back, but it probably wasn’t safe. Credence had even managed to find a spare Ecto Cooler juice box for him, and had left it on his bed side table as a treat for when he came back.

That had been hours ago. Maybe Graves wasn’t gonna come back.

Graves’ cum had leaked out of him the entire time the policemen questioned him, making him squirm in his seat. He’d had to sit on towels for over an hour before it all had dribbled out, the swelling in his stomach finally subsiding.

He wished it was still inside him. Not even Graves' smell remained, and his room was terribly cold without his body heat.

Credence’s cheeks felt wet and he realised he couldn’t breath through his nose. How long had he been crying for?

He laid there, unmoving, for what seemed like eternity. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do without Graves. He’d been all he could think about for three days. In reality it hadn’t been a long time but to Credence it had felt like years.

Then, just as he was drifting off tearfully, he heard a scrabbling at his window ledge.

Credence shot up from his bed, turning on his bedside lamp quickly. His heart swelled to bursting, his eyes swimming with tears – Graves was crawling clumsily through the window, dropping himself loudly onto the floor.

Credence clung to him, burying his face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent that everyone hated so much, running his hands through his tangled mane of hair, holding on tightly to his ram-like horns.

“Credence, I have to go,” Graves purred sadly in his ear, holding the boy just as tight, huffing gently into his curls. “You have to send me back.”  
Credence knew it was true. Graves had been discovered, and if anyone else got hold of him it was the end.

It didn’t stop it from hurting like the worst pain he’d ever felt.

They ran through the forest together, the mob closing in. They’d been spotted climbing out of Credence’s window together, and now they barely had a minute before they’d be circled.

The trees were illuminated with the blue and red flashing lights of the police cars that were parked at the edge of the woods, blocking their escape. A dull orange glow was moving steadily closer, accompanied by angry shouts and screams.  
Dogs barked angrily, and the loud beating of the helicopters wings drew louder and louder at an alarming speed above them.

Credence ran until his lungs screamed for air, clutching a nearby tree trunk for support as they finally stopped in a clearing.

“Here,” Credence panted, “quickly!”

He’d memorised the ritual from the book; they hastily arranged sticks in the specified symbol, messily took a nick of blood from each other’s necks and spat it onto the ground. The two held each other tightly as they said the Latin words together to send Graves back, the chopper above them so close it sent a howling gale down upon them, sending forest debris flying everywhere.

A blinding spotlight illuminated them, and Credence could see flashes between the trees of flashlights from the cops searching the area, their angry German Shepherds snarling at them. Credence could see the glint of their fangs, the iridescent malice in their black eyes.

The mob was shouting angrily around them, fire blazing on the torches they wielded.

Credence clung to Graves, and Graves placed a clawed hand on the back of his head and guided his face back into the crook of his neck so Credence couldn’t see any of it.

They repeated the words once more, the overlaying commands emitting from a megaphone a cop held failing to interrupt them.

A sudden blaze of hot, red flame started up around them, following the lines of the symbol and engulfing Graves completely. It felt like silk against Credence’s skin.

And then Graves was gone.

The fire died down almost instantly, the surrounding forest floor burnt a dark black in the shape of the symbol. Credence sat in the middle of it all, his arms covered in mild burns, his clothing singed and ashy.

Heavy arms descended upon him. He didn’t care what happened now; Graves was safe, they couldn’t hurt him – so Credence passed out in the furious arms of a disbelieving cop, as if it was as easy as turning out a light.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The happy ending everyone in this story deserves :)

Newt sat cross legged on the sofa, a pile of unmarked essays sat on the floor in front of him. He hunched over a piece of paper, pencil caught between his lips. This student’s handwriting really was awful.

Credence came into the lounge, messing with his hair anxiously. He was dressed to perfection, the clothes he was wearing clinging to his slim figure, accentuating his slender waist and pert behind.

Newt smiled at his turned back - a hidden smile. He remembered Credence when he’d first arrived in his class; malnourished, hunched and barely able to say a word before breaking down.

Now, he was a smart young man on the way to earning his degree – self confident, beautiful and empowered. Barely anything showed of the tortured soul he once was, besides the night terrors he still had.

Newt adored the boy, and Credence adored Newt. The two had lived in lovingly platonic companionship ever since Credence’s grandparents had passed away, and it had really been the best three years of both of their lives. Not that Credence’s life with his grandparents had been bad, but now he could stretch his wings truly as an adult, experiencing life in the small city where Newt lived.

“How do I look?” Credence turned to Newt, interrupting his daydreaming.

He smiled fondly and pretended to roll his eyes. “Credence, you always look perfect. Besides, he wouldn’t care if you were wearing a bin sack with a bag over your head, you know that.”

Credence snorted, checking his watch anxiously.

“It’s almost three, come on, I don’t want to keep him waiting,” he stressed, grabbing his coat.

Newt sighed and stood up, stretching his arms behind his head and barely stifling a yawn. Staying up to these ungodly hours of the morning really wouldn’t do wonders with his school work.

They drove together in silence. Newt could feel in the air how excited Credence was. How excited he always was.

The Halloween decorations in the shop windows glowed luminous greens and oranges, but Credence barely took a moment’s notice. He never did.

As they pulled into the little suburban street that once held acres of his grandfather’s farmland, Credence sat up, his knuckles white as he gripped the car door, ready to jump out at any second.

The old farmhouse he’d lived in had been torn down; replaced with an old folks home. The forest had been mostly destroyed, a large tarmac path running through the small amount that was left.

As Newt parked up in the care home’s carpark, Credence took a deep breath. He looked forward to this every year; Halloween night at three am, the exact time that Graves left.

He got out the car, walking on shaking legs to the spot he knew by heart. He could find it blindfolded and earmuffed. The ground had never recovered from the fire, the symbol still as fresh as it had been the day it happened.

As he approached the spot his eyes fell upon a dark figure crouched in the middle of the clearing. He held his breath.

Their eyes met.

Graves' golden irises flashed with recognition, the two collapsed in a crushing embrace.

From the car Newt watched them, the same hidden smile as before playing on his lips. Graves had been allowed to return for one twenty-four hour period every year the day that he was sent back. Newt didn’t understand what magic had gone on there, he didn’t try to.

He could see Credence and Graves walking back to the car, their arms clutching at each other, as if they were scared that Graves would be snatched back at any moment.

Newt made himself scarce when they got home, pretending he had plans to go out all of a sudden, to give the two of them some privacy.

Whilst Newt sipped tea and crunched biscuits in a hotel bed with a cheesy romantic novel, Credence and Graves fucked. They clung to each other, their bodies pressing together so tightly. They did everything they could to be a part of one another, desperation and love and sad inevitability making them wish they could quite literally become fused to each other. Credence wished to be enclosed inside Graves' broad chest, and he buried his face as deep as he could between his thick pectorals.

One of these days, quite a few years down the road, when Newt finds he takes a fancy to Credence’s favourite librarian, Jacob, and they start dating, he returns home the morning after Halloween. Jacob is with him.

Both Credence and Graves are gone.

On the kitchen table there are two freshly made steaming cups of coffee for the two of them. 

There is also a note.

'Thank you'

Newt will never know where they went. He will grow old with Jacob, they will move house several times and get several dogs and cats. He knows in his heart Credence is at peace.

Credence and Graves are finally together, and they will be for eternity. Credence doesn’t get night terrors anymore.

Credence, for perhaps truly for the first time in his life, is where he’s supposed to be.


End file.
